Fallen
by Foxfire3
Summary: The story of how the Sarafan came to be. (Note: I have yet to play Soul Reaver 2, so this may contradict that game)
1. Fallen - The First.

The First Sarafan

Azrael awoke, not really sure where he was, not even sure of who he was. "What happened? Where am I?" he asked stumbling to his feet and groaning in pain as his head started to throb with pain. Strange thoughts flashed through his head, of golden light and falling, endlessly falling… He shook his head to try and clear the haze from his mind but it brought him nothing except more pain.

He looked around and saw that he was in a room, a room that was completely unfamiliar in all aspects. Surrounded by wooden walls, he lay on a straw pallet, above him was a thatch roof and against the far wall was a hearth with a fire burning brightly. Closing his eyes he caught glimpses of golden walls and servants to do his bidding, then the vision was gone, vanished from his mind faster than the blink of an eye.

"Where am I?" he asked again, louder this time. "So ye be awakenin' at last do ye? Well it be about time that's fer sure", came an old voice from across the room. Azrael looked over and saw an old man and upon looking at him, he instantly knew everything about him. From when Joseph, the old man, had broken his knee at the age of five, to how Joseph had found him, bruised and unconscious in the forest not far from here.

"So it is Nosgoth I am in. But why? For what reason am I here?" he asked speaking more to himself than to Joseph. "Err, ye be here 'cause I dragged ye here when ye was all cut an bleedin'" Joseph answered. "Thank you Joseph, but I was talking about the bigger picture, I feel, for some reason that I am not native to this place." 

"Hey! How do ye be knowin' me name?" asked Joseph, immediately on the defensive, "Ye been spyin' on me?" and he held up his weapon ready to spear this strange being. "Hold good fellow", responded Azrael, "In truth I am not sure how I knew your name, as I am not sure of many things", looking across he saw that Joseph held a spear pointed at his heart. A glimpse flashed across his mind, along with a voice commanding him, someone he respected, "Go forth… vampires… help the people…" and then it was gone.

"Ye ain't beein' a bloodsucker is ye?" asked Joseph nervously ready to spear him at the slightest hint of an attack."Rest assured Joseph, I am no vampire", Azrael stood up and felt his head, where the blood was beginning to crust over from whatever it was that had struck him. Seeing him stand, Joseph made ready to attack, "Wait", called Azrael, "If you have some water here I will show you that it does not hurt me, will that suffice as proof that I am not a vampire?"

"Err, just wait a second then", and Joseph shuffled around for a few seconds then hesitantly came closer holding a wooden cup, filled with water. Taking the cup Azrael poured some water over his hand, which had no effect other than to wet it. Then he lifted the cup to his mouth and drained the rest of the water in a single swallow.

"So if you ain't a bloodsucker, then where does ye hail from?" asked Joseph, still holding the weapon, but no longer pointing it at the stranger. "To tell the truth I am not entirely sure, my memory seems to missing large pieces", replied Azrael, "However I do know that my master has sent me here to deal with vampires. Yes that is right. To help the people as I can." 

Feeling dizzy, Azrael sat back down on the bed again, fighting against the nausea that had suddenly swelled within him. Then he passed out once more. "Well, ye be needin' some rest that's fer sure", said the old man as he covered Azrael's unconscious form with a blanket and washed the wound on his head clean. Then the old man made a bed for himself near the fire and lay down to rest as well.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, in a forest encampment not that far away a group of bandits were engaged in a heated argument, the object of the argument lay in the leaders hands, an evil looking two-handed sword, it's blade curved back and forth many times from hilt to tip. The crosspiece had been crafted in the image of a vampire's skull, with two fangs stretching down to the blade, which extended from the skull as if it were a tongue. The hilt strangely enough was remarkably plain, bound only with leather. However the weapon exuded an aura of power.

"That's it Lorath! Hand over the blade now or I'll take it from your corpse", one of the men screamed and then he rushed the leader with his own sword out. Lorath merely stood there waiting and as soon as the man was in reach he brought the weapon down in an arc that sliced the man from shoulder to hip-bone causing a spray of blood and gore to coat all those who were near. The dying man looked up at him with astonishment in his eyes as his torso fell down to the ground next to his legs.

Lorath smiled evilly, "Well, does anyone else wish to die today?" the men standing around all shook their heads. "Then I suggest we get ready to attack the nearby town, their pitiful guard will not be able to stand against us now." He held the sword high as blood ran down the blood into its mouth. Watching the blade with fear, Gareth could have sworn that the eyes burst into red light as the blood touched the fangs.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Watching from the shadows with interest, the robed figure smiled as Lorath held the blade high. It would be interesting indeed to see how this twist played out. He had travelled far to be here and while he was expecting someone else to be holding the blade, this situation would suit his purposes far better.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The fires from the town's run lit the night sky for miles around. The bandits had spared no one, men, women and children had been cut down where they stood, or in most cases, they had been slaughtered from behind as they ran. Many bandits had fallen to looting the houses for the petty trinkets to be found within, with many small fights breaking out over minor baubles. Lorath stood in the centre of the town, surveying the carnage with savage glee. The sword pulsed in his hand, sending shivers up and down his arm. Licking his blood coated lips he lifted his head to the moon and howled in animalistic fury. 

Gareth shudder as he watched from the shadows, he felt sickened as he looked around his home town, especially when he saw his sister's corpse lying near Lorath. She had a gaping wound in her back where he had plunged that cursed blade in, as well as a gash across her neck where Lorath had bit her and drank deeply of her blood. Gareth had heard the rumours about creatures of the night and how they fed on humans, but like many he had discounted them. Now he knew they were true. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Azrael awoke, hearing the sounds of screams off into the distance. Looking around he saw Joseph already up, standing guard with his spear pointed at the door. He tried to stand up, but was overcome by dizziness and collapsed back on the bed. Hearing him, Joseph looked over.

'Aye, it be a sad business for anyone who be out in them woods tonight.'

'What…. What is going on?'

'I'd say a bloodsucker raid from the sounds of it, but the thing is I ain't never seen none of em around ere, cept for the rumours o'course.'

At his words a memory resurfaced amongst Azrael's mind, that of his weapon, taken from a demon long before, it took a creature of great power to control it. Even then he needed to continually fight with it for control. Azrael had willingly taken the burden up long before, continually searching for a way to destroy the foul thing, but to no avail. Until recently that is, when he had discovered a fragment of an ancient manuscript that had described the sword and it's forging place, Nosgoth. So he had come, hoping to find a way to be rid of the evil weapon once and for all.

'Dear God no,' he whispered in horror as he thought of the awful possibility.

'What's ye problem?'

'My weapon… A sword… Did you see anything like that when you found me?'

'Nae, ye had nothing but the clothin' on ye back. There was however several different pairs of footprints around ye body. P'raps they managed to find it.'

'Pray that they did not, good Joseph, for if it falls into the wrong hands I fear greatly for what could happen to this world.'

The next morning Azrael awoke early and despite his still throbbing head and constant bouts of nausea he struggled outside and began to exercise. Over the next few days he gradually returned to full strength, although of his memories, very little had returned. Finally, a full week after he had been found by the woodsman, he decided to set out and discover what happened to his blade.

'I must depart Joseph, I thank thee for thy kind help during my illness, but my head has healed and now I must set out and discover what has happened to my sword.'

'Aye, I thought ye might be saying sometin' like that, but abide here a moment longer if you would', and Joseph made his way back into the cabin, returning with his spear. 'Here, take this, I cannae bear the thought of ye perishin' so soon after'n I helped ye to get better.'

'I cannot in good conscience accept it Joseph, for to take it would leave you defenceless.'

'Tis alright lad, I kin make more of 'em easily enough', and he pushed the spear into Azrael's hands.

'Very well if you insist, I will gladly accept your gift. Once more I thank you, for your help and this spear, but now I must leave. Fare thee well Joseph, may your remaining days be peaceful.'

'Aye, fare thee well Azrael. May ye find success in what ye do.'

And with that, Azrael turned and left the old woodsman, heading into the forest to where Joseph had found his body. Once there he tracked the bandits to their camp and saw that it was deserted and had been for some days. _This bodes ill, I know it, They must have found the blade and now it has taken control. I must hurry if I wish to halt this before it goes too far,_ he thought as he paced around the camp looking for where they had gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'Ahhhh Azrael, ever the trusting fool', said Joseph, staring off into the woods as his tone become deeper and the flesh melted off him, revealing the form of a hideous demon. 'My vengeance comes ever closer, you will never leave this place, _light-bringer_', the demon hissed as it's form dispersed into the air.


	2. Ambush (original huh? :p)

Sorry about the shortness, I've had trouble thinking what to add and thought that I should get some down before I totally get over the story…

****

Chapter 2

Gareth wanted to leave the group, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Deep down inside he was a coward, it was why he was an outlaw now. Thinking it was easier to steal a loaf of bread than to do a day's work to earn it got him the attention of the local guard. After killing one and maiming another he had run off to the forest and joined this band of not-so-merry-men.

But now? Well now he was seriously regretting the decision which had led him to this scene of carnage. It was the forth town that they had attacked this week. During each atrocity Lorath grew more blood hungry. The madness was in his eyes easily visible for all to see. Some had chosen to leave. Lorath had hunted them down and they had returned, like him, blood hungry and crazy.

He'd thought about faking his own death, but decided against it when he saw what happened to a villager that had tried it. It had started with the new man performing a 'blood eagle' on him and had just gotten worse from then on. That was another reason Gareth wanted to leave, the new man. 

The man had walked out of the woods three days ago when they had been pillaging one of the other towns. Joining in the slaughter without a word he had managed to spill almost as much blood as the leader and when the blood rage had settled Lorath had walked up to him, smiled a bone chilling smile and accepted him with a small nod. 

Gareth had become a hard man amongst the outlaws, he'd earned their grudging respect with his willingness to do what it took to survive and by his skill with sword and crossbow. But since the new man had joined, well he felt like when he was ten years old and getting thrashed by his father for breaking a window. The new man, that's what they called him as he hadn't said anything to any of them since he had been there, only whispered into Lorath's ear and pointed new directions for them to take. If he hadn't joined then Gareth might have taken the chance and left, but it was far too risky now. It was almost uncanny the way he seemed to know what you were thinking. Looking up, Gareth realised that the new man was staring at him and he looked away hurriedly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'He comes milord, seeking your destruction,' hissed Jonathon as he sniffed the air and looked off into the trees from the direction that they had come.

'What of it? Have I not slain all in my path? One lone hunter will surely not be able to defeat me!' replied Lorath, his words dripping a hatred and loathing of all things.

'Be wary milord, this one possesses much power… Much power indeed, he, perhaps more than anyone else could possibly be your undoing.'

'Let him come, I'll hack him from crotch to gizzard and feed what's left to the dogs!' he said, withdrawing the weapon from the crude sheath he had strapped to his back. The body lying at his feet let out a moan of pain as the weapon lanced down and plunged into his chest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Time was slipping by fast as Azrael tracked the outlaws, no matter how fast he moved he seemed unable to catch up. He had almost lost hope, until today when he arrived in Ichtendorf. One of the bodies was still warm and he could see fresh tracks moving off into the woods surrounding the area. 

He started to follow once more when a sense of wrongness hit him. He readied the spear and backed into the clearing looking all around not sure what was wrong, but knowing that something bad was going to happen. After a few minutes he lowered his weapon and sighed, _Damn, there must be another village close to here. I have to hurry if I'm to be of any help. _

With that thought he raced into the trees. Almost getting decapitated by a sword that swung out at his head. Only his extraordinarily fast reflexes saved him and even then he lost some hair. Screaming a howling war cry, the bandit leapt at him, sword ready to plunge deep into Azrael's chest. There was a faint look of surprise in the bandit's face as he landed on the end of the up-turned spear, which Azrael had quickly braced against his foot.

Hearing more war cries from the clearing, he swept up the man's fallen sword and charged back into the open area, looking around at what seemed to be a score of bandits which had come leaping out of their hiding places amongst the trees.

__

This is going to be a very bad day…he thought as the bandits charged.


	3. The trail...

****

Chapter 3

__

Slicing upwards, Azrael gutted a bandit who had leapt from the roof of a building at him, continuing the stroke in a circular motion, he brought the borrowed blade around and decapitated the bandit behind him. Cutting down six of them without even being scratched had not halted their mad rush at him. Two more charged at him one from his left, the other from his right. Waiting for the last second before he was skewered, Azrael took a step to the left and killed the man on that side. Before he could fall Azrael grabbed his arm and through him towards the man on the right knocking him to the ground and pinning him under the weight of his dead comrade.

Sensing another blow coming, he rolled under it and plunged his sword into the stomach of the man who had just attacked leaving him to drop to the ground in agony. "This battle is taking too long, it's time to attack rather than defend," muttered Azrael as he looked at the dozen remaining men. Then he charged them.

Jonathon waved his hand through the pool of water as the last man fell to the ground, his head landing a few yards away from his body, 'As you can see Lorath, this is no ordinary hunter.'

'True, but I have too few men left to leave any more ambushes for him, and would forty succeed where 20 failed?' 

'In truth, I think they would not.'

Lorath nodded and walked off, thinking of plans on how to defeat this powerful warrior who was coming after him, presumably to kill him for his mad rampage. _No matter_, he thought, _I have the blade, there is none in Nosgoth who can stand before me and live._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

__

Fool, he wields the blade like a simpleton. Yet it has accepted him as Master and until it changes it's mind or he dies by someone else's hand I cannot claim back what is rightfully mine, and with that thought Jonathon howled his frustration out over the town they had destroyed that day. The eerie cry causing the bandits to shiver and look about warily into the night.

Cursing bitterly, he went back down amidst the town and sniffed around for the scent of life, he was feeling hungry and it was time to feed. After a little search he found the hiding place, it was makeshift and he easily ripped down the barricade. Looking inside he grinned with evil delight as he saw a girl, around thirteen summers old, hiding there, staring at him with terror in her eyes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gareth was worried, he had been lying under the corpse for a few minutes now, and with his poor leverage he had been unable to lift it off of himself. Now he heard footsteps coming back. It had to be the man they had been sent to kill. He was a demon in human form, Gareth was frightened just thinking about the man's skill with a blade. Never before had he seen anyone move like that, so fast and supple, but with so much strength behind each blow. _Please leave me alone. I'm dead, just like all the rest_ he repeated over and over in his mind, hoping the stranger would let him be and that he could get away from all this horror.

Feeling the body being lifted off him, he opened his eyes in fear and saw the angel-faced stranger standing over him, the sword pointed at his heart. 'I know you live, vermin, so stand up. You will help me against Lorath or you will die here. Choose.'

Almost wetting himself from fear, Gareth trembled as he stared up into the being's eyes. About to choose death he paused, and suddenly the fear was gone. In the man's gaze he saw condemnation, but also compassion. It was not due to a hatred of him that the man would kill him, it was because of what he had done in the company of Lorath. Gareth also saw a glimpse of what would happen to his soul should he die before he had achieved redemption for his sins.

'I choose to come with you', he said simply, still lying in the mud. 

Azrael studied his face for a moment, then he nodded once and strode off, 'Gather a weapon and follow me, we have little time to catch your old leader,' he called over his shoulder as he headed after the trail.


End file.
